You, in your bluish hue – nostalgic and hopeful – ever inhabiting a kind of aether, neither here nor there, but possible – like heavens, like waters – deep, open, beyond. A different form of presence, not with, but altogether. Perhaps. Whereas I, in fleshy, earthbound, soiling tones – dressed to catch the eye – hang myself into the world of shapes and edges, angles and points – risking extravagant extension rather than mirroring sea and sky. Butting bodies – yours forgiving and surrounding, just shy of the resistance for friction – mine stolid and secure, and flagging its pronouncement.
N Filbert 2013